


A Shepherd's Consul

by Artisanthemage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Wine Kink, arcana latest book spoiler, monster kink, yall know the deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisanthemage/pseuds/Artisanthemage
Summary: There is an old tale, long before you, your mother, and her mother your grandmother.A tale about the old golden city of Vesuvia ruled by a Count and Countess of great wealth. Their rule was not the best especially during the time of the Count’s life, most misfortunes blamed on him like the plague that killed many. Bits of the tale is lost or altered so much you are never sure which version or latest version you are hearing. However, the tales about the Courtiers remain the same, importantly the one about the Consul of Vesuvia. A tall man, with light brown hair with a long blonde tail, who dressed in the finest of clothes, and had eyes that matched a golden color though pale. All Courtiers matched a theme, an aesthetic of the Count’s even down to his menagerie of pets and his wife. This man, one of high power besides the Count and Countess, was human long ago. Was like all the others until death drew to close to home.Now it is here where the tales get outlandish to you.Supposedly all the Courtiers were demons, as in real demons, demons and so was the Consul.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1V1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1V1/gifts).



As a shepherd in the Vesuvian fields, you often have a herd with that one adventurous lamb, that lamb adorable and a bit troublesome. You love all in herd even this one who calls out to you like a baby, its foot stuck between some branches to a tree. "I'm coming!" You call out to your lost lamb as you climb half way up an eerie cliff if you ever have seen one. As one from a line of magic users, you can see auras or sense things off in the area better than those with no magic. Sadly, even though you can sense the eeriness you have to rescue the lamb of your herd. A particular call had you frantically rushing up to see a shadowy deformed beast hovering over the scared shaking lamb, the figure's clawed right hand reaching out to the lamb. The lamb's eyes and body shaking as it drew closer to its foot caught in the branches, not like you could see that. You were too busy sneaking for a good angle to whack the monster. Too busy to see the lamb become calm as the monster’s hand freed it just as you raised your shepherd's staff and-- **_WHACK!_ **

The impact startled the beast that held its head groaning in what sounds like an annoyance rather than pain. Pale golden eyes were hidden by shadows lower to the ground as you run off with lamb in your arms. Your broken staff picked up by one hand you saw and a human hand piecing together the stick before its eyes glance up to see you far from the cliff. Wind carrying your scent to its nostrils, irises becoming slits as your unique scent seemingly drowns out the others around him. 

  
  


There is an  **old tale** , long before you, your mother, and her mother your grandmother.

A tale about the old golden city of Vesuvia ruled by a Count and Countess of great wealth. Their rule was not the best especially during the time of the Count’s life, most misfortunes blamed on him like the plague that killed many. Bits of the tale is lost or altered so much you are never sure which version or latest version you are hearing. However, the tales about the Courtiers remain the same, importantly the one about the Consul of Vesuvia. A tall man, with light brown hair with a long blonde tail, who dressed in the finest of clothes, and had eyes that matched a golden color though pale. All Courtiers matched a theme, an aesthetic of the Count’s even down to his menagerie of pets and his wife. This man, one of high power besides the Count and Countess, was  _ human  _ long ago. Was like all the others until death drew to close to home.

Now it is here where the tales get outlandish to you.

Supposedly all the Courtiers were demons, as in real demons, demons and so was the Consul.

You do not believe it-- You did not believe it until met the creature on the cliff. A fear triggered that caused you to move the herd elsewhere, anywhere but there, yet, in the back of your mind, you are curious about him. Curious about the former man long ago know as Consul Valerius.

“But why was he considered bad?” You questioned as you sat at the kitchen table peeling away at the skin of a potato, your mother looking behind her at you with a raised eyebrow. This the first time you questioned the tale and questioned it after speaking about your encounter in the grazing spot. “I mean I get he wasn’t a great leader but…” You hate how it sounds like you are defeating him.

“What brings this up?” The worry in her voice matches her face when she stops stirring the heating stew to crouch down to with her hand on your shoulder. “Did anything else happened back on that cliff?” A million questions more about your safety more while you are wondering about this monster, wondering about things dangerous and far beyond your reach.

“I’m fine, mama,” Smiling at her. “These potatoes aren’t going to peel themselves!” Going back to work.

 

The one reason you never wanted to sell off your adventurous lamb is that you are the same one, only you can think logically. Yet, logic is thrown out the window when you hear the cries of your sheep outside their barn drawing you from your dreamless slumber, nightgown covered by a wool cool to block the cold, slippers less helpful in such way. You shove the door open, wind roaring as you walk outside, door slamming shut behind you blocking your panicking mother from following. Each step threatening to blow you away, you swear this is the karma for living in front of a mountain. Once at the sheep’s pen, you usher them into the shelter of the barn once more before trekking to find the missing adventurous lamb missing from the group when you counted them. “Narve!” Crying out the lamb’s name as you walked in the dark with a flickering lantern light from the barn; the wind dying slowly as you walk, rather guided to the cave. Now you are not stupid, you were raised with a good head on your shoulders and a brain to use, what you were not taught was to fight the pull of magic like this one. A sweet hum that draws you to step into the dark cave that swallows the light you bring in.

“Narve are you there?” Saying the name once more in a form of a whisper speaking to the animal like it is a fellow intellect being as you try to see your surrounding. A few flickers of dim yellow lights dancing on the wall catch your eye, colors switching from yellow to red, red causing you to stop and reach your foot out to check. Red meant wrong way or danger from what you gather as you traverse through the cave

“Bah!” A cry? No, sounded too joyful however enough to cause to run dropping the lantern as a white light appears in front of you. You close your eyes jumping forward without thinking.

You fall rather comically onto the clean marble floor with your hands saving you from a bruised lip, eyes closed, chest hurting from the impact. Once you gather yourself you stand up adjusting your wool coat closed in this foreign place. Gold, white, bronze, a soft brown covered the walls in such an elegant fashion is seem like a dream or a picture from an old storybook. “Bah!” You dear lamb looking up at you from across the room eating what looks like a patch of grass in a golden bowl with a bowl of water to match, “Narve!” Walking a few steps then crouching down as the baby sheep ran, more like skipped, over to you happily jumping into your waiting arms. “God, you worried me.” Nuzzling the baby nearly crying.

A sweet moment when you felt the presence of something-- Someone behind you.

“ _ How touching _ .”

Body standing, rising, turning followed by you drawing out a small blade from your pocket towards the monster. The man-beast no longer obscured by shadows now fully to reveal to you with his neck stretch back with a raised eyebrow. You point the blade dangerously close to his chin, “Stay back.” Scared for both yourself and your calm lamb. “Why did you take my baby?!”

“Your baby?” Confused then chuckling, “Your ‘baby' followed me,” Daring to take a step while you take a step near the open door you fell through. “Your lamb was curious and I welcomed it… much like yourself.” The way he says it is one of certainty, one open to more question, but there are that underlying unspoken words; that your questions will be answered at a  **_cost_ ** . Now you wondered what his and your own price is, lips pressed together as you shuffle away. “Now that you are here what will you do?” A question of his own that has you wondering if it already knows what you are going to do or say.

“Go home.”

 

And you did.

 

Course, it did not mean you did not return, see you had gotten a chance one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ chances to see the monster of your people’s tale. Seeking out the creature known as the former Consul Valerius of the Vesuvian Court, a place long gone, conquered, and left to ruins. The information you disclosed to him when you return to the realm via the cave. “You live in the very fields of that place,” Speaking well he walks with you following in his wine cellar. “Amazing how time works here.” Stopping in front of a particular shelf plucking a bottle of wine you never have seen before. Honestly, you never have seen a bottle of wine in such well-crafted glass bottles before! “You are making yourself sound ancient.” Looking from the side of the tall man to see what else he doing. “You aren’t that old… Right?” He glances behind with the corner of his lip lifted in a sly expression. “Oh, such a cradle robber, Consul~.” Teasing. You have no fear of the man-beast, demon, thing that you often visit. Not like he ever made a move to really make you feel uncomfortable after you returned to his realm again. A filled glass of wine is given to you as a gracest host he is, “That is assuming I have an intent on bedding you.” His quim did not hurt your ego nor feeling for you do not see him in such a light, well, a light you were sure not to announce to him.

“I hope not, Consul! That would mean me lowering myself to bedding a speaking animal.” Slipping your glass of wine as you walk off leaving Valerius in a second of utter disbelief at your words. Body following you, a little peasant with a mouth on them, “Lowering yourself,” A scoff of disgust when meeting you at the door of the wine cellar, “The only one lowering themselves is me.” Pompous as what you imagine the Lord of your mother’s land is like. Then you raised an eyebrow and coy grin that reminds him of a Proxenos he once employed; he noticed how his words can be twisted. “Ah, so you enjoy groveling, my dear.” Because he had no doubt, no reason to question, you would drop onto your knees for him. You scowl turning your face away to stare at a painting on the wall while slurping your wine.

“You should then  **_consulere_ ** me on how to grovel, maybe wiggle your ass a bit.” The words are sharp, far from being venomous, with a hidden desire you had been hiding out of respect. He is no God, nor do you see as one, you see him as a man who endures the price of seeking power. It, however, does not stop you from respecting him.   
“A literal peasant! Who knew they existed.” The words if spoken by another would get you to splash the wine on them, the Consul says in a way with a knife and pat on the head if one is to describe his praise, of sorts. “Sadly, I know no such action.”

“I can teach you, Consul.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And of course this becomes a three-part story lol

Rams are funny creatures, stubborn, rowdy, aggressive. You raise sheep for most of your life. Dealt with mountain goats and rams during mating season.

You prefer hanging around the partly predictable creatures rather than those like yourself, too unpredictable. This thought reflected on as you stare into golden eyes with irises in the shape of diamonds. The inhuman hand reaching out touching, feeling; you submissively nuzzling his palm with closed eyes, gasp when he pulls on the hair on the back of your neck. “ _ Someone should teach you how to hold that tongue of yours, peasant _ .”

Eyes opening half away to see the sneer on his face revealing a fang. A rush of thrill, fear, and lust shoot throughout your body, hand daringly touch something beyond you, lips pressing on the back of the elegant wrist of the Consul. “Then teach me.”

You asked for it, announced it with words and body language, non-resistance when you are taken over his knee in what you realize is a room full of books. A study room with the same colors as the grand halls but in reverse order. You panic grabbing Valerius’ leg to steady yourself from falling completely forward, “I was joking!” Words trying to stop (which you did not want) the Consul from-- Your face is dark with a blush and head down when you feel a cool air of the realm on your exposed ass.

“You asked for this, (Name).” His voice is rich with a cockiness. “Course you can back out.” Ever the gentleman, you look at him from over your shoulder thinking he is being funny. He is not.

“Valerius,” The way his eyes shine in the light of the Hierophant's domain, lips barely parted as he sucked in a breath. “I’m a rather slow learner.”

The first smack hurts causing you to try to move away from the pain, lips biting down to stop from shouting, you are yack back into place. Each hit followed by a rule, praise for taking the punishment in the form of obscene words. You whimper, tear up, moaning when he hits at the right angle. Cunt aching to be filled, touched by his hand of fur and claws.

“Gods, harder!” Purring, drooling, wiggling eager for more borderline pain and pleasure.

“Perhaps you want something else hitting you.” Naturally, you think to object until you feel the bulge under you pressing up against your stomach. You nod damning whatever doubts before about hiding your affections towards the former Consul. “Say it.” You press your swollen lips, from biting down so hard, together ashamed to speak of the actions you want to be done to you.“Shy after I gave you a few spanks,” He says into your ear holding your face up with his human hand. “Perhaps I should--”

A sharp bite on this lowered ear silence him in speech, not in sound, he makes a growl, a warning an animal would make before it must strike.

You want him to strike. To take you like a beast he is.

Disappointingly he does no such thing, or maybe not so disappointingly. He treated you like a glass of the finest wine he ever had. Laying you down on his chair after he assisted you in stand and switching places. You do not know how to feel. His touch care especially with his left hand. “Valerius, please.” Wanting roughness instead of gentleness. You grab hair and horn when his lips wrap around your sensitive clit, sucking then licking. Cheekily spelling out his name.

Legs bending, stretching out, finally crossing to draw his face further between your legs. He does not bite where you hope, nor claws you, not even toy with you. He savors your essence, moaning as he is enjoying your moans for more. Right now you will take his kindness, his punishment a test to see what his little minx likes. Those eyes watching every expression on your face as he fucks you with his tongue in your core, along with a weird coarse abrasive feeling. Amusement washes over his face as you suddenly look panic, the coil in the pit of your stomach becoming tighter and tighter.

The snap, the release, the little death.

As a shepherd as well as living with your mother in a small cottage, you do not have time to… play with yourself as some people say. This is your first orgasm, your first everything and it has you shivering. His human hand rubs your thigh as you calm down, “Wow.” Is all you can comment, it has him chuckling as he stands. Standing in more than one way. “Do you want me to?” Pointing at the dent in his pants.

“No,” Sounding unaffected by his arousal. “Not right now.” You realize this was for you.

You realize you will be able to do this again!

  
  


A week passes, whispers float around the small village near your home, you tend to your herd. You sneak out or take your herd around the area of the fearsome beast of the past, bringing food that you stored the night before for the Consul to eat though he told you many of times he does not need to eat.

Yet, he takes the food as if a tribute to God. “You didn’t eat the nuts.” Pouting as you examine the napkin with only the walnuts from your trail mix remaining. “So, no nuts next time.” As you toss them on the ground for the birds to eat.

“The need to supply me with peasant food is cute.”

“I believe that is a compliment, Consul.” Nudging his arm. “Growing soft for me.” Not a question, a statement claiming it before he can crush your hope. He did no such thing, eyes looking out into the horizon blocked partly by a mountain. The setting sun arising a very romantic mood, but all is one-sided as you stare at Valerius lost in his own thoughts.

You wonder what goes on in the mind of man with power yet limited.

Standing up dusting off your cloak and pocketing the cloth formerly holding the trail mix, “I have to head home now,” Announcing your departure. “I, uh, will I see you?” Each time you leave you hope it is not the last, pray that another day involves the sight and sounds of the man-beast.

“You make it a point to see me uninvited.” Rolling his eyes. “Course you will, my tup.” His. You are his. You smile laughing (or rather giggling like a little girl with a crush) as you lead down your sheep back home.

Home?

A home where your mother is in the kitchen preparing dinner. Where you put the herd in the barn to say warm, where you pet all their heads saying goodnight to them. Where you go inside the little cottage greeting your mother with a small kiss on the cheek.

Or another home.

Home in a magical realm with a former complete man who teaches you knowledge from long ago. A home where you find yourself on your back or knees given pleasure only those married or paid to give ever experience. Where your heart swells when that rich voice praises you. Where you find yourself wishing to never leave.

Now you have two homes, but one calls out to you more than the other.

“Mama,” Breaking the dinnertime silence this evening. “What was it like when you stayed with papa?” The question has your mother stopping midway of lifting up her wooden spoon to her mouth. A sense that there is more to this question has her place her spoon down calmly, “Well,” She softly laughs. “I love him and I knew the consequences of it.” She shakes her head, “Well, the consequences that other people tried to put on me.” Her hand reaches out across the table touching yours. “In this world whatever happiness you find, snatch it. Treasure it for as long as you can.”

“Happiness.” Whispering the word to yourself.

The rest of dinnertime is left in silence. Your mother wonders who has your heart.

 

Night falls over the land you call home, everything is so still, yet, relax. You, however, are restless, unable to sleep without thoughts drifting to your lover. You stare at the ceiling recalling his face, scent, and touch.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -shows up with hot coco- SUP NERDS  
> I want to thank 1v1 for helping me with this! /i fucking love them and Valerius like HARD/

**_“They can’t do this!”_ ** You hell at the priest who dared come to your door with a guard on standby, you hate how the church of this area as all this power, the power that is in no way ‘blessed’ by God or Gods for that matter. The world of “man” is known for fearing the “ _ impossible to explain _ ”, “ _ things that take away their power and or comfort _ ”, and “ _ often the sexism and or racism that follows every generation _ ”. Those harsh words about the reality of the world are spoken to you by the Consul. The man/ram beast you have grown to love as the season past imparts wisdom as the Hierophant would. Tells of ancient traditions, of wars lost and won by both sides, love stories, and tragedy that could have been prevented if people knew their history. You could-- Have listened to him for stories speak in the grand realm, you have to sneak back home a lot with the herd of your sheep.

“Mama, he can't do this to us just because of some rumors!” You know your rights yet it means nothing when you have no firepower to back them.

“Dear child, you must listen,” He steps into the home uninvited with the big bully of a man stalking behind. “We are here to save _your_ _very soul._ ”

“You are not a God to do such a thing!” Slapping away that bony hand daring to touch your face. Like all unholy things in this world are you going to let this self-proclaimed middle man dare take the land your family worked so hard to cultivate! “Get out and off my property! Yeah,  **_get_ ** !” You really hate how much a peasant you sound, not like it mattered so long as those two trespassers got off your land. Your mom stands behind you coughing twice the holding her coat closer to her body, watching the men ride off. “They’re going to be back, (Name).” She worried as much as you are. “Maybe we should--”

“No.” Turning to her as you close the door behind you. “This is our home before that King started ruling and we will be here after him.” Taking her shaking cold hands into your warm ones, a smile to reassure her. “Now, I need to talk to a friend but I will be back okay?” She nods kissing your knuckles.

“I hope he can help.”

“... Me too, mama.”

.

.

.

Slipping from home to see the Consul is any every other day occurrence. You had to see him, both for counsel and companionship. But nowadays… Walking in silence in the realm is becoming a more often event now that you have to deal with famine and a greedy King in your home. Valerius offers his comforts… but you know that will not do. The type of help you really need is...

“I’m scared, Consul.” The first words you have spoken to him since your arrival. “What would have done?” Looking at him seeking guidance, anything, something.

“Surrendered.” That is not what you wanted at all. Your head drops, eyes closed tight to stop the stinging eyes from falling. It is heartbreaking to hear those words from a person you look up and care for so dearly. “This battle you can not win,” A human hand place on your shoulder. “It is best to live to fight for another--”

“ **I am not a coward!** ” The shout echoing in the chambers. “They think using the church to get us to give them our land is going to work they have another thing come. And I refuse to just roll over and  _ thank him _ for taking our  _ barren  _ land.” The news of ‘barren' lands travels fast especially to the wrong people like wildfire. The King knows the use of taking the lands of your home along with those in the village. The only force stopping him was the coin, yes the coin. He made coin off sells and rent, living off the taxes from goods traded to and fro the land. “ **_And I thought you weren’t a coward too, Consul._ ** ” Voice going low as you stop walking with him. The quiet is like a killer, a knife cutting deep into the ram beast’s ego.

“So, you want something to help give you an edge over your oppressor….”

“You’re basically a God, right?!” Turning to him as you stare down at your feet, talking with your, “All I need is something to scare them with, Valerius!” When you gaze back at his face there is a disappointment, a pain there that you did not mean to cause. You wanted to yell at him for it, cry as you yell out your fears,  _ you do not want to leave him _ . “I’m sorry.”

A slow inhales of air, “As am I.” Starting to walk again now towards the door to leave his realm.

* * *

 

In life, there is a balance between two realms: your realm and Valerius’; these balances set before you were even a thought in your father’s and mother’s mind. You have seen the tapestry on the wall of the Hierophant realm, all telling a different story, you love looking at them and guess the stories told in oil paints. When he is around you ask him a plethora of questions, eyes full of wonder that he cannot resist, he became your mentor of sorts. And like any student, you put what you learned into use.

Spells. Supplies. You.

The spell you choose is a revitalizing one used to gain back parts of the earth affected by the famine. Some of your land and some others so no suspicion arises. A small select of your land tested and successful lifting up your spirits. The other farmers did not suspect a thing, believing the turning of the earth along with the weeks' rain helped. You believe it too along with your magic.

Next, spell… you know should not have been done, but it had to be done. Priest’s land started getting the effects of the famine. You knowing not to wish let allow cause ill-will on a person, however… fuck him.

The last spell is protection spell on your mother. In her sleep, the spell is cast with a kiss on her forehead. If anything happens to you then so be it, you cannot leave with yourself if something happened to the woman who birth, raised, and loved you.

All your actions are your own, not hers.

Burning the scrolls you used to copy the spells from the Hierophant’s realm, you get rid of all evidence possible.

 

Two weeks roll by.

Four weeks.

A month.

Everything seems safe that you relax. 

That was your last mistake….

 

**_A witch._ **   
Not a Magician, a witch who has been scheming with the monster who you kept defending unrealized. Another mistake that came to bite you in the ass.

**"Mama!"**

You yell, scream, kick and fight as you are dragged away from your home by some of the villagers. The Lord of the land leading with a priest. Vision blurry from the tears as you watch your mother reach out for you, helpless as she is held back from saving her child. "Our crops will grow once we rid our land of sinners!" The local farmers have grown desperate to blame anything or one for their problems. Blame the Shepherd for guiding evil in the flock to paraphrase what the priest stated hours ago. 

Your plan was working! You helped your fellow people, sought a little justice, and it worked! But things had to go south. Being improperly trained, how could you know the would take more than the famine once it wore off? Or that priest could tell a witch cursed his land? Now you just worry about your mother as you are taken away.

Your mother and you preparing to leave when news arrived about the famine returning came late early into the new month. Telling her what you did as you started packing. This is your fault not hers to bear, even when it is said she will stand by you. You prayed fortune to look down on you… it did not favor you at that moment.   
It did now, however.   
The thundering of cloud storms approaching scared everyone given fields provide no cover. You bite down on the arm and slam your foot on the weak foot of a farmer you once brought eggs from; quickly running away from the mislead desperate villagers. Running, running, and running no matter how much your legs ache and burn, stopping only when you stand where it all began. 

A cliff.

Staring down at the dark abyss, the lightning strikes flights to see the barely in the darkness at the bottom, our foot nearly slips when you lean in too close.

“The witch is here!” The shout of the farmer with a torch-lit like a beacon of false hope. “There’s no escape.” The farmer said stepping cautiously towards as others follow far behind. You have two choices now: Death by fire or by jumping off the cliff.

Either way you are doomed however one is quicker than the other.

Turning your body around facing the abyss, eyes closed, deep breaths taken, body falling forward. There is shouting as the farmers try to grab you, it is too late. You will choose how you die not them.

 

The sound of thunder is all you can recall.

* * *

 

The scent of earth, wine, and warmth wakes you gently like a babe in their mother’s arms listening to her steady heartbeat; body feeling like butter on a hot pan, your sit up slowly as you try opening your eyes. You almost fall backward onto the bed… wait. “What the fuck!?” You shot up wide-eyed and frantic about your disposition. Eyes darting around, hands touching your face and chest. “Oh my God.”

“Not God,” The voice that had you nearly cry spoke out, “But I’m sure he put you in my thoughts.” The coyness there as he sits at foot of the bed watching you. “You jump quite a ways down, tup.” Hand touching yours. “Nearly scared me.”

“Consul where is my mother?”

“Ah, worried for others beyond yourself once more,” Nodding his head. “She safe in the gardens right now. You needn’t worry about her.” Beast hand brushing away imaginary strains of hair just to touch you. Eyes falling to gaze down at your lap, fingers toying the sheets tracing the patterns on it.

“That’s it?” For you know he cannot be doing this to be nice; one of many lessons: No one does anything from the goodness of their heart unless they have everything.  **_And no one has everything._ **

The chortle he makes is darn right mocking, teasing, “No, it is not, tup.” Standing up to walk in front of the bed. “(Name), you have shown magical talents. Course untrained and unshaped, yet, you showed promise.” Giving him a weary look. “An offer.”

“Isn’t that a demon’s thing?”

“And what did you think I was, hm? A cursed man?”

Shaking your head you reply, “No… You just don’t… act like a demon.” Running your hand through your hair, “You’re civil.”

His laugh is rich, smooth, joyous. “Not all demon as savage beasts,” Those golden eyes slit like cat’s eyes stare down at you with mischievous intent. “ _ Unless that is what you wish for, tup. _ ” You hid a little into the sheets like some child cowering to the monster under their bed. Instead, the monster is likely going to jump you-- Not like you are complaining! “No--I mean not that don’t… Just tell me your offer, Consul.” Not bothering to dig yourself into a hole further of an embarrassment.

“Heh, well, for one clarification: I am not a traditional demon that you probably read about,” Looking up at him as he spoke. “I am a demon but one created from the binding of an Arcana and a man. You learned about this correct?”

You nod, “It puts the Arcana archetype into a reverse state and forces the person to remain in their patron’s realm.”

“Yes,” Proud of you along with that you are putting to use the skills he taught you. “And as an Arcana archetype…”

“I am indebted to you for saving my life.” Great. 

“It is not all bad  _ my  _ darling tup. In fact, I have two offers to make you,” Sitting down on the foot of the bed with his hands on his leg resting completely on the bed. “Return home with the skills and teachings of a master magician to a new land. You will not have to endure the pain you did in your last home.” That offer had your attention, it sounded perfect!

“What is another offer?”

He grins, “Stay here with me. Make this your home tend to my gardens and keep me company.”

You softly laugh, “Be your lover then, Consul?”

He glances away amusement on his face.

You press your lips together as you go over the options laid before you, both too good to be true. Both… “What do I owe you?” You are not stupid, Valerius knows that thus why he enjoys having you around along with other reasons. “You saved me and that I know has to be paid in some way.”

Hand reaching under the sheets, warm on your cool body, “A life for a life, dear.”

A life for a life? It took a minute, well more than a minute to figure what he meant as his hand went further until right near where he touched you before. “...Valerius, I did not take you for the  **_Rumpelstiltskin_ ** type of demon.” The smile on your face told it all as well as the way your legs parted for him under the sheets.

**_“How clever, (Name).”_ **

“I know.” Laying down on the bed completely as the sheets are yanked off of your body, his hand touching bare leg. The cheeky asshole changed your clothes while you were passed out. You cannot help the giggle that bubbles up your throat as his fur tickles where he places his kisses. Anxiously you start breathing heavily, hands gripping the bed sheets. Excited? Yes, very. Scared? Well, you are giving your virginity to a demon Arcana thing. Nothing about him is human or if there is it is barely. “You are so beautiful.” Your hand touching his horn as he eats you out, those eyes widen at your praise.

Sex is weird.

Or strange.

How your body calls out for more, always greedy, clinging to what is given. Like his cock thrusting into your cunt, bed sheets stained with blood. It hurt, not a lot similar to what you heard, only uncomfortable. Then you think back to the way those women talked about their husbands, your Valerius cares.

Yours… God, he is yours isn’t he?! Yours to seek, question, and love endlessly. “My beloved Consul.” Taking in every thrust, every inch of his cock.

“My tup.” Nuzzling your neck before his teething sink into your shoulder.

.

.

.

.

You woke up sore, walking around the realm with no Consul around since the lost night. “Mama?” Calling out for her as you enter the gardens. “Mama!” She ran over to you squeezing causing you to whine. “Are you okay?!” Both asking as both of you check each other over.

“Did he…?”

You explain what happened, leaving out the exact parts for her own sake. “I’m going to bare his child and stay here.” She takes a seat holding her forehead taking this all in. “Mama, I love him. I think I have since that night during dinner.”

“I’m happy for you but,” Taking hold of your hands with her own, “He is giving these offers and it’s just.”

“I accepted the second one, and you can go home and be safe.

**“I did not say anything about your mother, my tup.”** You stand up eyes meeting his. “I only offered to help you not your mother.

“W-what?!”

Valerius’ demon hand tracing your jawline, “You should learn not to assume with demons, my sweetness. Both my offers were for your benefit, not hers.”

“And what if I choose the first one?!”

“Then I will wait to see you call upon me as a magician would. My plans for you have been mapped out since your lamb found its way in here.” The world fading around you, the cries of your mother with them. “You know don’t you.” A cold fact you knew and found yourself loving as the days went on.

“What offers and price must be paid to protect my mother, Consul?”

The realm is different, his voice echoes. You look around realizing you are standing before a church, or ruins of one. “Something of equal value,” Hand guiding you to the pulpit. “Bearing my child is life for life. Now willing giving the life of your own is equal to protecting your mother’s.” You grab the wine glass half full of a black liquid.

_**“I’m sure you understand the price of my offer, my beloved mate.”** _


End file.
